Indescribable
by Arthur Heath
Summary: A warrior and a white mage explore the deepest aspects of the connections between them, and what it means to be a human and in true love.


**Indescribable**

**A One-Shot**

_"He thought he knew true beauty_

_But what now stood before him challenged that very definition_

_It was not her body that drew him to her, though it was magnificent in its own right_

_It was her spirit, her soul, her being...the thought of who she was and all she had experienced_

_The thought that here, now, she was willing to give it all to him, come what may_

_He thought he knew true beauty before, but he had been wrong...for he saw it now_

_A thing so beautiful, so stunning, so marvellous, he knew he had never seen it before, for he surely would remember_

_So this it must be...so this true beauty must be. This is the stuff poets write of."_

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She was indescribable; the only words that came to his mind seemed cliche, unsuiting of her supernatural beauty; in his mind, there were no words, just the image which now stood before him...the image, and the idea. The image was merely the smallest piece of the perfectly complete puzzle before him; the blood which ran through his veins and into the mass between his legs responded to it, but the cloud that composed his mind at this moment saw far beyond her meager surface: in his mind he saw her in the midst of battle, eyes closed yet somehow still staring Chaos in its cold, dead eye, not knowing if the next words from her mouth would be her last and not caring; such ideas had confounded him for the longest time--how could she be happy with such thoughts? How could she be content, placing her unwavering trust in complete strangers each and every day, able to rely only on the blind assumption that their trust would, in return, validate her efforts? Did she expect the same from them--the thief, the magician?

Stupid questions; he knew the answers. She was a selfless person, a saint in every respect. The perfect woman. She followed the teachings of her clan better than anyone ever had--of that he had no doubt.

And now, they were alone at last. All these months--or had it been years? It was hard to tell, for time had grown strange of late--they had been traveling together, the four of them, for so long that it had begun to seem as if they were not four separate beings with four separate pasts, separate lives, separate dreams, feelings, goals...not four, but one.

In spite of that, the true union was yet to come.

A shimmering smile danced from her lips, riding the gentle draft across the room and into him, knocking the wind out of him. It was a look to die for; it was that unwavering, piercing trust in her eyes, offering so much and asking so little...he knew, then and there, that he would be able to have her and walk away, if he so desired. Perhaps she knew that, as well? It didn't matter, he thought--she trusted him, and she trusted that he would return the favor. He didn't know if she believed in a God (or Gods), but he knew that, judging from her actions, she certainly must place her faith in a higher power, some being that ascertained the adage that good deeds will be repaid in time.

But deep down, he knew _that _was a lie, too--she did the things she did not out of fear or hope of prosperity, but out of the pureness of her heart. It seemed too good to be true...but perhaps it really was that simple: she was the perfect woman. He could easily see war being waged over her fairness.

Before he even realized he was moving, he was standing before her, gazing down into her sunlit eyes--there was no sun here in this dimly-lit hotel room, but sunlit they were. He placed one hand on her shoulder.

She opened her mouth to speak.

He silenced it with a single finger across her lips.

She smiled at him, beaming, and he felt himself grow harder. He took a moment to feel thankful for what was to come; he would certainly regret getting himself so ready, and yet being unable to fulfill his desires.

Though, it was really _her _desire he sought to fulfill. Standing here, before the act had even begun, he was already throbbing from the mere thought of pleasing her; she was as the purest soil on the earth, ready and willing to accept the first seed of spring, a seed that would sprout and grow into something truly grand, something awesome to behold, and he took the greatest pleasure--both physical and emotional--in the gift of being the one to sow that seed.

He locked his arms onto her shoulders, and their lips followed suit; soon, their tongues were dancing in primal lust. She moaned softly...so softly...he was so hard now that he feared he would not be able to wait. But he would...for he had to. He knew he had to...for her. She trusted him, and he would not betray her. If she had been any other woman, he might have entertained the slightest possibility...but he knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She would never accept another man as she was accepting him now. He could smell that on her, that sensual fury, tainted not by the faintest pinch of shame.

His left arm caressed her right shoulder...drifted down to her elbow...slid around her breast, cupping it softly. Her nipple was erect, and ever-so-slightly moist. He relished the feel of it beneath the softness of her robe, and anticipation welled in his groin; he wanted to feel her skin, her natural softness, that thing to which no man-made material held rivalry. He allowed his other hand to gently rub the nape of her neck, feeling her shoulder-length brown hair, running his fingers through it, taking boundless delight in its smoothness--it was as soft as spider's silk, in spite of the fact that none of them had bathed for several days...almost supernatural. He felt it was a sign, a sign that this was meant to pass. His hand fell from her hair, tracing the curve of her spine, until it came to rest just above the rise of her buttocks. She braced, anticipating further stimulation, and then relaxed, allowing him to cup her there, as well.

But she was not one to be outdone; she pressed both her hands against his chest, unlatching the catch on his overcoat. It fell limp over his shoulders, exposing his muscular upper body, finely honed from several months of heavy aerobic activity.

He had Chaos to thank for that much.

She traced the center line of his abdomen with one finger, coming to a stop at his waistband...and stopped. He could tell she was heavy with anticipation, as well, but just as eager to make the moment last. She slipped one arm around his neck and pulled him towards her so that their groins were touching; he felt the ultimate softness of her pubic mound, pressing so gently against the midst of her robe, and couldn't resist grinding against her once. The pleasure was immediate and overwhelming; a bolt of ecstacy shot from the tip of his penis to the base, and from there it became a shiver which overtook the rest of his body.

She moaned softly again, and it was enough to overpower him once more--the pleasure was on its way, and soon there would be no stopping it. The urges were simply too powerful. He thrust against her again, harder, and this time she cried out a little...though she bit her lip in an effort to remain quiet, calm, relaxed. The ecstacy would come in time, and the longer it took, the greater it would be. Instead of grinding back--as she so clearly desired to, in spite of her efforts to the contrary--she took a step backward, taking him with her, and lowered herself onto the bed sideways, so that she lay across it. He came down on top of her, gently but firmly, and then the real play began.

She began to wrestle with her clothes, shimmying from side to side in a way that made him so hot he feared he would burst right here, on her abdomen--a thought which he briefly considered before taking his self-control back from his trembling hardness--until her robe was making its way down and around her shoulders. She hoisted her legs up into the air, bending her knees up until they would rise no more. Between them was the softest earth known to man, her most private region, exposed to him for whatever purpose he might intend.

He would put it to good use...in a moment. First, he helped her pull her arms from the sleeves of her robe, revealing the white gown beneath, woven of the thinnest threads of the finest silk in all the world. He took care in unfastening each of the three buttons around her neck, trying not to damage the fabric--it was surely very expensive, and as much as his primal desire was screaming at him to rip it off and take her now, he forced himself to move slowly and relish every sensation. He could see that she was doing the same; her eyes fluttered rapidly, staying closed for several seconds before opening again, ready to take in the sights and sounds, the feelings which threatened to overwhelm her. She was enthralled, lost in a moment of pure physical and spiritual bliss; soon, they would become one and enact the true union.

Together they lifted the gown up over her head, casting it onto the stone floor on the other side of the bed without a second thought, and then she was wearing only a thin silk strip across her chest, a primitive bra that barely covered her eager nipples, and a narrow chamber of cotton which held the most sacred treasure known to man around her waist, cradling her softness. It called out to him from beneath the fabric, and he immediately ground his penis against it.

She whined, gasped for breath, started to pant. She was trying so hard to be quiet; he found that aspect of her so _cute,_ that desire to be as feminine as possible and yet not feel any shame, and it made him even more excited. He pounded against her as hard as he could, and this time he felt a sticky trail of warmness in his trousers. Without another thought, he loosened the knot in his rope-belt and cast it aside, allowing his thick hide pants to drift down to the dirty ground.

At last, his erect penis was free. It screamed for her inner warmth...but he was not ready, not just yet. Instead of descending into her, he pulled her bra down her chest a ways, so that it came to rest just above her belly button, releasing her beautiful bosoms from their prison of fabric. He lifted his head from hers, met her warm, flambouyant eyes, and smiled.

She smiled back.

Seeing her face, especially that alluring smile, he knew he would not last much longer. He dipped his face deep into her chest, smearing it into her breasts, taking a deep, satisfying breath. She smelled absolutely _wonderful,_ and her skin was as soft and pale as he could have imagined; if ever there were proof for a higher power, here it lay, between her magnificent breasts. No woman could exist in such a stupefying glory of her own doing.

Finally, he sensed that she could wait no longer, either--her legs locked around his waist, her moist opening begging him to enter, to partake of her, pressing against his hardness--and he lowered her slim panties down to her ankles; her tightly clasped feet kept them from sliding onto the floor for a moment, so she took a second to kick them off into the distance. They came to rest moments later on the desk near the room's only exit.

He met her eyes one last time, and for just one moment, he felt it--the surge of emotion running through her, the fierce pounding of her heart in her chest, the agony of pleasure to come, of pleasure that has yet to arrive, burning in the twin suns of her eyes--and it was all he needed. He nodded to her...and she nodded back. He felt her entire body tense up--his right hand, still gently cupping her buttocks, now pressed between her rear and the bed, felt the muscles in her backside seize up as he first caressed her lips with the tip of his hardness, and then--as ceremoniously as he could manage in the midst of his excitement--slid into her. She hissed, partially from pain and partially from pleasure, as he filled her up, and for that moment, they were one.

He looked into her eyes, and she looked into his. He felt a feeling welling in his chest like none he'd ever felt before; it was love, pure and powerful, driving him on, pressing him deeper into her. He was filled with a desire to protect her, to be close to her, to be _with _her, physically, spiritually, emotionally...for now and ever more.

She conveyed that same inconceivable love back to him through her burning eyes, and when her mouth worked--mirroring the efforts of her lips as they fought to contain this new intruder--he felt himself preparing to let go. Her face, more than any other part of her, was the single sexiest thing he'd ever seen in any woman he'd ever been with--probably, he assumed, because it was the closest part of her to the spirit behind her being, the thing that drew him to her so much. It was so..._beautiful._ So pure, so candid. As he felt his orgasm approaching, shooting towards him like an airship on a crash landing, he wrapped his arms around her waist and neck, locked his neck with hers, and called to her...called to her...

She voiced the same sentiment to him, feeling him as he filled her up. She felt as beautiful as he saw her; she took the moment as she, too, felt her orgasm approaching, to enjoy the feeling of wanton, of being desired in every way--sexually, spiritually, and all other ways--and she felt her chest welling up so much, a tear burst from one eye and slid down her cheek. She was just so _happy;_ she was filled with more love in this one instant than she had ever known herself to be capable of feeling; she could tell by her man's unfathomable degree of control over himself that he felt the same way, too.

As orgasm slid its hot fingers around her brain, drowning out all coherent mental language, she allowed herself to slip into a deep, all-encompassing thrill of pure sexual bliss. She now knew the true meaning of the word "sexual;" it was so much more than she had imagined. She could no longer think clearly, but images flashed through her mind

(_hugging kissing touching loving)_

and she felt like she could cry, she was so happy.

As he felt himself let go, he, too, slipped away from the conscious world, and with his mind came a fresh burst of semen, shooting deep into her body, driving towards her virgin womb. Later, he would wonder why he had not experienced the bursting of her hymen--for he'd thought she was a virgin--but for now, he allowed himself to be enveloped by the white void of sexual climax.

This was what it was all about; the beginning of the universe, and the end. The love between every man and woman, and the hatred. The Fire, and the Ice. The Wind, and the Earth. None of it really mattered now, not in this most private of moments, this moment that they shared together, calling to each other as he shot his most divine essence into her, linking them forever more at the cellular level.

As her orgasm died down, she realized she was crying...crying, and yet she was smiling, too. As the intense pleasure left her, she lay on the bed, her man still thrust deep inside her, holding his position--and the last traces of his own orgasm--as long as he could. She felt the last of his fluid spurt out of him, dripping down the inside of her, and exhaled deeply. She looked into his eyes and saw that he, too, was smiling.

It was true love, plain and simple--they both knew it. It was so wonderful, so all-encompassing...it was indescribable.

END


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